


Four in One

by heathered



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-13
Updated: 2010-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathered/pseuds/heathered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Gwen made other people happy and one time she got exactly what she wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four in One

1.

Gwen's always loved the spring, but it's a melancholy time of year in the small house she shares with her father. He takes on more work than in the winter months, working tirelessly at the forge and sleeping soundly at night. She thinks it's because it still hurts him to remember when her mother was here.

For her part, Gwen doesn't remember much about the woman who gave her her name and died one morning in April when Gwen was three. Dad doesn't talk about her, when she asks. But sometimes, she'll catch herself idly humming a tune she can't recall ever learning, and it always puts shadows in her father's eyes to hear it.

It happens one evening as she's setting the table for dinner. She catches herself at it, but not before she sees her father's expression change. He finishes his dinner silently and excuses himself.

When Gwen gets back in from hanging up some clothes to dry and fetching some fresh water, she finds him in the forge, taking some newly-made swords down from a rack, testing their weight and balance. He smiles absently at her when she walks in.

"Will you show me again?" she asks, reaching for the hilt of one sword.

He blinks in surprise. When she was smaller, she spent a lot of time in the forge. He hadn't minded that she was a girl, so she didn't either, and would watch him work and learn what she could. But Gwen is twelve now, and it's been a long time since she's asked for a lesson. A year or more, since the wide woman in the faded brown dress came to collect Gwen and present her to the lady Morgana to work in the castle as her maidservant. Her place is different now; she spends less of her time at home, oft times sleeping on the pallet in Morgana's chambers so that she can be there in time to open the curtains and lay Morgana's clothes out in the morning.

His expression clears and he smiles, handing her one of the shorter swords. They used to do this with wooden play swords, so her eyes widen to have been given a real one. She listens attentively as he shows her how to hold it without locking her elbow.

The sword is somewhat heavier than her own arm, but Tom beams with pride when she balances it in her grasp and thrusts it forward. It only wobbles a bit.

She grins at her father and thinks the sadness in his eyes is less than it was before.

"That was a pretty song," he says a little later as they put the swords away together. "One day, I'll teach you the words."

Gwen smiles, thinking she'd like that very much.

  
2.

Merlin sticks out amongst the other servants like a sore thumb.

But of course he does, Gwen thinks. Most of the servants in Camelot -- herself included -- have been at this for most of their lives at least. So it's strange to see one Merlin's age wearing his bewilderment on his sleeve as he works his way through whatever chores Arthur has set, ambling this way and that about the castle.

She likes watching him well enough as she goes about her own duties, but one morning not long after he becomes Arthur's manservant, she takes pity on him. "Merlin," she says, walking up behind him and careful not to make him drop the load of clothing in his arms. "Where are you going?"

"Gwen," Merlin smiles brightly, and there's a trace of relief in it. "I was just taking these to be washed, for Arthur." He drops his voice. "And to spare myself the smell. I can't hold my breath any longer."

Gwen tucks her tongue firmly in her cheek. "You're taking them to be washed in the kitchens?"

"No, why would I --" Merlin breaks off and glances back in the direction he was heading. He looks back at her with a groan. "Gwen, I swear, every corridor looks like the next in this place -- how is it you can find anything?"

"Practice," Gwen laughs and puts her hand on his elbow, steering him in the right direction. "Come on, I'll take you."

Merlin walks alongside her, looking a great deal more at ease. "On second thought, maybe I should take them to be burned, for all the good washing them will do."

She looks around to make sure no one overheard, and laughs despite herself.

Morgana's gone riding someplace with the King for the day, and as she's caught up with her mending, Gwen spends the day helping Merlin find everything he needs, showing him which of the maids would give him extra pillows for Arthur's bed if he asked nicely (Merlin picked this trick up more quickly than Gwen had managed), and teaching him how to press Arthur's trousers without burning his hands.

When they're finished, they plop down together in the tall grass near the carrot patches.

"How do you do this every day?" Merlin flops onto his back, rolling his head toward her.

Threading a long blade of grass between her fingers, Gwen moves a shoulder, not sure how to answer. It's not something she asks herself often. "I don't know," she says finally. "I suppose you just ... do. I just do."

Merlin nods and doesn't answer. Without thinking, she reaches for his hand and turns it up. He has callouses in different places than hers and a little softer, perhaps, but they're there. "But I think you're used to a bit of hard work yourself, Merlin," she adds, smiling slightly. "Else where did these come from?"

"We do a lot of farming in Ealdor," Merlin explains. Ealdor, Gwen repeats in her mind, and files the information away. "Farming and woodwork. It's our livelihood, and there's not much else to do, when you get right down to it. It's different from all these chores."

It's a completely different feeling working in your own space rather than making things nice for other people. She nods. "Well," she says, "maybe it's not much as far as rewards go, but I think you'll get used to it. I suppose it's nice having a place, at least."

"Such as it is," Merlin gives a little laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It's a nice laugh, no less merry for his exhaustion.

Gwen looks at him, her smile a little wry. "Such as it is."

Meanwhile she's still holding Merlin's hand, fingers faintly tracing a callous across the top of his palm, and he's gone very still.

She drops his hand and glances down.

"I'm... I didn't --"

"It's fine," Merlin says, in such a way that Gwen thinks it actually might be.

Still, it's nearly time for Morgana to return, and she'll need to get her ready for dinner.

"I should go." Rearranging her skirts, she gets to her feet.

"Me too, I think," Merlin says, but he takes his time getting up. "Gwen?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks, for today."

Gwen only nods and scurries off.

  
3.

"I wish they'd stop that bloody racket," Morgana says, crossing her arms as she looks out of her window and down at the courtyard, scowling at Arthur as he trains his knights. "As if anyone could get anything done with all the clanging."

Gwen says nothing and goes back to her folding, but she doesn't miss the way Morgana's scowl softens into something like longing as she watches the men fight. She sulks less about the noise than the fact that she wants to be down there with them.

Sometimes, though she would never say it aloud, Gwen thinks it was cruel for Uther to let Morgana spar with Arthur when they were small, only to tell her suddenly that she can't any longer just because she got older.

But everyone has their place now, even if it isn't always the best fit.

Gwen gathers up the clothes. "I've some shifts to finish dyeing," she says, and smiles a little. "Does my lady want to get out for a while? To the river?"

Morgana turns to Gwen, her face brightening as a beam of sunlight falls across it, making Gwen's own face quite warm. "If anything, it'll be quieter," she decides, and it's settled.

Kneeling on the riverbed, Gwen pushes up her sleeves as far as they'll go and reaches for one of the garments in the basket she's brought along; it's heavy and wet with dye. She lowers it into the water, letting the color bleed out until the water around it is red. As she wrings it out she glances back at Morgana, stretched out on the grass and looking every bit the princess despite being barefoot with her toes digging into the grass, a child-like smile on her face that Gwen hasn't seen for far too long.

"I forgot to bring my embroidery," she says with no small amount of glee.

Gwen grins. "Sometimes it's nice having nothing at all to do," she says. She wouldn't know, exactly, but she does know how much Morgana hates embroidery.

"You could take a break too, you know," Morgana says slyly.

"But then who'll finish this?" Gwen is only half-joking. She _will_ have to get it done eventually, after all.

"I could help." Morgana crawls over. "Then we can both take a break."

"Oh no," Gwen warns, pulling the garment she's rinsing away. "You'll ruin your hands -- and your clothes."

"It's hardly fair for your hands to be ruined and mine not," Morgana says practically. "And I've no business being out here in this ridiculously impractical dress, anyway."

Gwen can only agree on that last point. "That's the way it is." She laughs as Morgana reaches for the basket again, swatting her hand away before she can stain her fingers.

"You're absolutely no fun."

She giggles. "So you keep telling me."

She wrings out the last of the shifts and eyes her mistress. It'll mean more work later but, deciding it's worth it, she not-quite-accidentally drips a little of the deep-red water onto Morgana's hem, then gasps. "My lady, I'm so sorry," she says, dropping the garment and fussing.

"Oh hush, Gwen, it's not so terrible. It'll look a bit better when it dries." Morgana investigates the spreading stain and eyes Gwen's other basket speculatively, the one with clean clothes that Gwen pulled off the line on her way here. "I should probably get out of this dress, though."

Gwen hides her smile. "Probably," she says. "But I think there's only trousers and tunics in there."

Morgana's eyes sparkle. "I think I'll live."

People rarely come to the river at this time of day, so they have enough privacy for Morgana to shuck her clothes and put on a pair of trousers that are slightly too loose and a tunic that's too big by half. Gwen doesn't know what makes her face heat more: the sight of Morgana as she's changing, or the way she looks with the tunic nearly falling off her shoulder. When Morgana settles beside her on the riverbank, Gwen reaches up to slide the tunic back into place, ducking her head as Morgana eyes her.

"Protecting my modesty, Gwen?"

"Someone has to, my lady." Her mouth twitches up at the corners as they both dangle their feet into the water.

Morgana gives a musical laugh. "Men are so lucky," she says. "Sometimes ... do you ever wish you'd been born differently?"

Gwen shrugs a little, thinking of her father, who never seemed to mind that she was a girl and gave her lessons anyway. "I wish things could be different for girls," she says carefully.

Nodding her agreement, Morgana stretches luxuriously, and when she lowers her arms her tunic is back down her shoulder. Gwen swallows, her throat feeling dry, and reaches up to fix it again. When Morgana turns her head their faces are close, and Gwen's dye-stained fingertips linger against her skin. Catching her breath, Gwen smiles and leans in until their lips meet, because it feels like just the thing to do.

Morgana's kiss has none of the gentle shyness of Merlin's kisses, and Gwen finds she likes this kind very much. Of course, she reckons that Merlin kisses her differently than he does Arthur. Not that they ever talk about Arthur.

She gasps as their tongues slide past one another, and she's no longer thinking about anyone but Morgana.

  
4.

In the kitchens, Gwen sets a tray precariously on the counter, placing it between herself and Morgana, who had insisted on going with her to get a cup of warm milk rather than having Gwen bring it to her. She woke sweating and cold with a scream in her throat, but maintained that she'd be fine.

Gwen didn't protest. After seeing her like that again, she's glad enough to have Morgana next to her.

Arthur walks into the room as she's leaning over to fill Morgana's cup, and her hand shakes a little on the pot, making herself frown. If Morgana notices, she doesn't comment.

"What the devil are you doing in the kitchens in the middle of the night?"

Apparently recovering from his surprise at finding them here, Arthur glances irritably at Morgana. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I should think that would be obvious," Morgana says, gesturing to the tray in front of her.

Arthur sighs, aggrieved, and Gwen notices the sweat on his brow. He looks just a little haggard, still. "If you _have_ to know, I fancied a snack. I've been training."

"By yourself?" Gwen asks curiously, then with a glance at Morgana she adds, "Sire."

"Who else am I to train with this time of night?" Arthur stands up a bit straighter, but softens. "There are formations to work through, and plenty of stationary things to hit. Now I'm back on my feet, I can't afford to let anything slip."

Gwen nods. It still doesn't answer the question of _why_ he's training at half-two in the morning, but she has some idea, anyway, after sitting at his bedside for so long while he was clammy and immobile and Merlin was gone who-knows-where.

Everyone's fine now, only not quite.

"Yes, heaven forbid any of those straw dummies of yours should gang up on you," Morgana says mildly.

Arthur sends her another glare for form. "I'll just grab something quick and leave you to... whatever it is you do when you aren't being impossible."

Morgana hides a smile behind her cup, and Gwen's glad to see that goading each other seems to make them both a little less shaky.

"How are you feeling?" Gwen asks, watching him root through a cupboard. Morgana glances at Arthur as well; now that he's not looking, she doesn't bother to hide the concern in her eyes.

He glances up. "Guinevere, I don't need to be nursed anymore."

Gwen's eyes flash. "You're still favouring your right side," she snaps before Morgana has a chance to interject. Her face burns as she looks down at her hands, aware that Arthur and Morgana are both looking at her. "_Sire_."

Arthur blinks, then makes a point of lifting his right arm a little higher to reach for a saucer. To his credit, he doesn't flinch at the strain on his shoulder.

"Right," he says quietly, reddening a little. She understands that this is probably the closest he has to an apology and nods. Morgana looks between the two of them speculatively, but Gwen avoids her gaze.

Having found an apple and some bread, Arthur heads for the door. "You should have some warm milk," Gwen offers as he draws even with her. When he stops and looks at her, she shrugs. "It'll help."

"Probably not as much as going out and killing things or beating something up," Morgana adds helpfully, lifting a brow in challenge, "but you may as well not be sleepless alone."

In answer, Arthur takes the stool next to Gwen's. It was closest, she thinks as his elbow brushes hers.

At length, she takes the pot and walks back to the stove to heat some more milk, listening to them bantering good-naturedly at her back.

  
5.

Merlin grins as he takes her hand and drags her out of the little house that she has all to herself now, for better or worse.

They're going riding, he tells her, the four of them.

"It's gorgeous out and the King won't be back from North Umbria until tomorrow," he says by way of explanation. What he means is that they know spring's a melancholy time of year for her these days, and she kisses him just before they get outside to meet the others. Arthur helps her onto her white gelding and Morgana smiles astride her own mare, comfortable in her trousers.

"Merlin's packed food," Arthur announces, eyeing the large basket strapped to Merlin's horse. "I can't vouch for its edibility."

"Prat," Merlin says mildly, but tells her, "one of the maids made it up for me, so we should be fine."

As they ride into the woods, Gwen tries not to think about the work she's leaving behind. It'll all have to be done later, but she and Merlin will probably see to most of it together after dinner.

It's not every day that the four of them can be this easy with each other, each of them so aware of their place, so she doesn't want to waste it worrying.

Later, when she's held tight between Arthur and Morgana on the springy forest floor, her face buried against Arthur's shoulder as Morgana kisses her neck and slips her hand down between their bodies, work is the furthest thing from her mind. Merlin's hands are everywhere, squeezing at Arthur's hip, fingers tightening in Gwen's hair, reaching around them both to trace Morgana's lower lip with his thumb. It's dizzying, feeling them everywhere, surrounding and anchoring her, and she can't help but give herself over to it.

Afterward, her head is pillowed on Morgana's belly and Merlin bends over to kiss them each one by one. Arthur laughs deep in his chest at the un-manliness of it, but then he brushes his lips against Merlin's shoulder and laces his fingers with Morgana's.

She smiles against Morgana's skin and watches the boys, thinking that it's really nice having nothing at all to do.

  
End


End file.
